First Night
by Writer Awakened
Summary: Hector was lucky that his duties as the new marquess of Ostia occupied his time until he and Lyn were to be wed. Otherwise, he might not have been able to wait until the first night. Hector/Lyn.


_First Night_

-

Hector was lucky that his duties as the new marquess of Ostia occupied his time until he and Lyn were to be wed. Otherwise, he might not have been able to wait until the first night.

-

Neither Hector nor Lyn knew of the superstition that brides and grooms were not to meet the day of their wedding before the fact. That was probably the reason neither knew why everyone around them looked as though they'd seen the ghost of Nergal. One hour before the ceremony, Hector had muscled past the nervous guard stationed at his bride-to-be's door and walked into the room where Lyn was preparing herself.

The young handmaiden who was ensuring the perfection of Lyn's wedding gown seemed especially distraught. The fact that the bride had only finished dressing herself the moment before bothered Lyn less. In fact, the handmaiden herself bothered Lyn more.

"Hector!" she said. "What are you doing in here? I'm dressing myself!"

"I wanted to see how everything was going," Hector said honestly. He caught sight of her and couldn't look away. Her green hair had been set loose neatly down her tanned neck. Her unorthodox wedding gown might well have been her Sacaen garb cast in ivory: close-fitting, its silk fringes weaving delicately down her feminine, spider-thin legs, though she wore traditional Lycian white stockings and shoes.

Lyn staunchly refused to wear make-up, and watching her argue relentlessly with her three young, timid handmaidens over this point was good theatre. Still her lips somehow looked softer and wetter, her cheeks gentler and brighter, her eyes wider and more brilliant. She was proud, she stood tall, she was ripe, she was his, but more than that: she was free, as free as the sky she revered and the wind that brushed her hair, and she was strong, as strong as the earth. And yet she had flown to him of her own will. That had made the difference.

Hector tried to clear his throat and failed. He could barely swallow and his first words only vaguely resembled the word "Ingrebbidle."

"Hector?" Lyn said. "Are you all right? You look very nice."

Hector looked down. He was wearing much the same outfit he had worn at his coronation ceremony a month earlier: a dark coat with a lush crimson drape around his shoulders. His collar was cinched far too tightly for his liking and fancy dress very obviously didn't suit him. Still, he was the marquess of Ostia and the head of the Lycian Council, and certain concessions had to be made.

It was just a shame that all the concessions had to be very stupid ones. First of all, as the little brother of a marquess, it was difficult and unadvised to sneak out of the keep to fight in the arena. As the marquess, it was completely impossible. It was also no longer an option to solve every problem with the action end of an axe, although Hector would admit it had been tempting to do after the first two meetings of the council. That pesky new Marquess Pherae had been his most notorious foil.

Most of Hector's time had been spent thinking about how to reform Ostia. For years, the barons and earls governing several of Ostia's smaller provinces, empowered by surfeits of wealth and territorial power, had let their subjects starve and lied about it to Hector's entire family line. The hurried disarray caused by Caelin ceding its power to Ostia and becoming a protectorate had helped to distract Castle Ostia from punishing their peers' crimes. After his ascension ceremony, walking through the streets of the castle town, seeing the merchants standing at the door of their stores, Hector knew that those people who stood smiling and watching were the heart of Ostia. His primary concern was for their well-being and their prosperity.

On the day of his wedding, however, his primary concern was his wife-to-be, Lyndis, who bore witness as her husband-to-be stammered like a drunken yak. Specifically, Hector realized it was a really _bad_ idea to bust into her room prematurely with no particularly good reason. Especially since she was incredibly, overwhelmingly, disarmingly radiant, positively pearlescent, and utterly stupefying in her effulgent gorgeousness.

...Hot. She was hot.

"Er, Lady Lyndis," Hector said stiffly. He struggled to find just the right way to stand so as not to look like a smuggler carrying a loaf of Thrian bread in his breeches. Eventually he settled on standing nobly, one leg in front of the other with bent knees, saluting the sky in the fashion of that famous orator and philosopher whose name he could not remember (it had something to do with a crate or a plate, or something.) "Uh, be…uh, well. I, uh, take my leave."

And so Hector fled the room in all haste, leaving Lyn flabbergasted and the most observant of her handmaids in tears laughing.

-

Not having a tub of ice cold water readily available, Hector decided to take a walk and clear his mind before the ceremonies. He walked briskly through the courtyard where the hedges grew tall and the flower gardens grew lush and fertile. There was a small stone bench near a fountain with an angel statue, so Hector sat and splashed his face, then returned to his thoughts.

"Hector!"

Hector turned towards the familiar voice, and sure enough, there was dastardly Marquess Pherae himself, Eliwood, dressed all in white with a ruby brooch cinched at his collar and an ear-to-ear smile stuck on his face.

"So you decided to show up, huh, Eliwood?" Hector said. He grinned and shook Eliwood's hand.

"I had scheduled a few games of chess with some of my attendants, but I decided I'd throw myself on the sword for your sake and come see the wedding."

"Sometimes your thoughtfulness astounds me, _Lord_ Eliwood. I couldn't do it without my 'worst man'!" Hector broke out laughing. "It's good you could make it. There's a feast planned tomorrow, but I hope you've found some of the things we set out on the table in the grand hall. There are plenty of salads and bowls of cold berries and pitchers of cream, and other things I wouldn't be caught dead eating, if you want them."

Eliwood burst out laughing, and when he had finished, he sat on the stone bench and wiped his eyes.

"Never one for subtlety, were you, _Lord_ Hector?" Eliwood said, still chuckling, breathless from laughing half his lungs out. Hector was pleased to see his friend in such high spirits. Although Eliwood would never admit it, the war had taken its toll on him, and his wife had been ill recently.

"I wouldn't want to stand on ceremony in front of an old friend, would I?" Hector sat down beside his friend and sighed. "I almost wish there wasn't so much damned ceremony today. All of Ostia was in an uproar for my coronation and even more people are making a commotion for this wedding. To be honest, it makes me uncomfortable having all these people here just to watch me. And I know Lyn agrees with me! I don't even like sitting in court and listening to a bunch of wretched frilled-collar counts and viscounts argue about how thin their forests are being hunted."

Hector sighed. "Can I smack them with a hammer, Eliwood? Is that possible?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Hector sighed again and shrugged. Without his armor, he felt unbelievably small, and without his axe he felt slightly less formidable. He'd a bad feeling ever since Athos had given his cryptic warning, but he didn't feel at all like talking about it. Mostly it was because he knew if he said it, Eliwood would say "yar, war!" and tell Hector to loosen up, and although getting rid of the tightness was a good idea, he wasn't in the mood to _hear_ it.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to deal with it," he said at last.

"Ha ha! That's the spirit, Hector! I'm _certain_ Lyn agrees with you. Now that I think of it, how _is_ Lady Lyndis? I haven't seen her since _my_ coronation. Is she adjusted to living in Ostia?"

"She's doing all right. Hasn't gotten used to the 'guest dignitary's' bedroom, though. Says her bed is a bit too 'fancy' for her, whatever that means."

Eliwood laughed ominously. "Wonder what she'll think of yours?"

"Eliwood," Hector said, in a very warning tone, as Eliwood grinned.

"I know, I know, sorry. You've not been married yet. I've already been wed for a month, but there have been so many things to deal with after that business on Valor, I've not had much time to spend with my wife."

Hector grinned six grins and put his friend in a headlock. "Your wife will have to accustom herself to Lycian life, too, y'know. So how is she?"

"Ah…about that," Eliwood said. He hesitated for a moment, smiling, laughing nervously. "She's…expecting."

"Expecting what?"

Eliwood smacked his face with his palm. "She's _with child_, Hector."

"_Ohh_…" Hector rustled Eliwood's hair and let him go. "HA! Really, now? 'Not had much time', hmm? Time enough, it would seem! I reckoned you'd find that _improper_! Knowing you, I thought it'd be two years before you asked to remove her dress!"

Eliwood blushed. As two reigning lords in separate Lycian states, they wouldn't be able to meet each other often in the years to follow. Therefore, Hector was determined to get his "mess with Eliwood's head" quota out of the way all at once. It was fun. It was also payback.

"Oi! I'm quite offended now! I have needs! I am a man, too!" Eliwood insisted in mock indignation, chuckling.

"Honestly? Sometimes I wondered. You've always been sheepless."

"That's 'sheepish'. You know, you seemed to've loosened up a bit, Hector. Have you had a few too many glasses of wine?"

"What?!" Hector said. "Are you implying I'd need a glass of wine to joke around? Blast it! That sort of slight demands a duel! For honor!"

"This is what I was talking about," Eliwood said through peals of laughter, slapping his side. He hiccuped once. Now that Hector noticed it, duteous, responsible Marquess Pherae looked a bit rosy-cheeked himself. The organizers of the gala had set out more than a few bottles of wine...

"So, a child, hm?" Hector said, scratching his stubbly chin. "Was it very different, the conception? Because she is a dragon, I mean…were there any, uh, different bits? Down there?"

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said!"

"That's going a bit too far, Hector," Eliwood said, suddenly serious. He looked down at the grass by his feet.

Hector chewed his lip and swallowed his pride. "Well…sorry," he said sheepishly (and sheeplessly, because he had no sheep).

"No, no, it's all right. Actually, she found out she was pregnant only recently. When she told me, she was weeping with joy…_our_ child! My own! Hector, when I think of what my father Elbert meant to me…I—I can't describe it. My own baby boy—er, or girl."

Hector held out his hand and Eliwood shook it. "Good health to him, Eliwood. When he grows older, I hope your son'll be a fair match for my boy Uther."

"'Your boy Uther'?" Eliwood said, breaking out in laughter. "What do people say of counting one's falcons before they come to roost?"

"Don't even joke about that, Eliwood. Especially since the blood of that Armads fellow still runs through my veins…there's no doubt it's going to be a son!"

"Well, I wish you and Lyndis the best of luck with that."

"And you as well, Eliwood. I'll say a few words for your child, but I can't do much more than that. I'll be having my own hands full, I'm sure."

"Thank you," Eliwood said. In an instant he had become somber again. "I had heard that Lord and Lady Kathelet, before their first child was born…had seen five stillbirths."

"Eliwood," Hector said sternly. His voice had a generous measure of sympathy.

"Sorry, I'm probably just worrying over nothing," Eliwood said, smiling faintly. "We'll both have good luck with that, I'm sure of it."

There was a brief but uncertain silence, and then Hector rose to his feet. By his estimation, he still had nearly twenty minutes until the ceremony began. Hector said goodbye to his friend and went for the longest walk of his life.

-

The last year had been chaotic, as chaotic as boring busywork could be. After finishing her business in Caelin, Lyn had followed Hector home to Ostia, where she stayed in the most decorated guest's room. On many occasions, whenever he had a free day's hour or a quiet night, Hector thought of Lyn, and was admittedly tempted extremely often. Their wedding was soon enough, though, and doing anything forward beforehand would have only complicated things further, especially since there were handmaids and lords galore walking and watching and gossiping in the castle's halls. Talk was cheap…and annoying. There was also a butler that Hector did not want talking about how he did it. Because if there was anyone who knew about having did it, it was the butler.

So it remained that Lyn was a clothed mystery to Hector, and he to her; he wondered if his bride had an imagination half as vivid as his.

_That would be…amazing, _he thought.

The result of their smoldering romance was that, by the day of their wedding, as Hector paced the castle courtyards and baileys, a tub of ice water was not going to be enough. He was going to need a frozen _lake_.

Finally a bell chimed.

Hector sprinted through a couple of halls, and, luckily for him, remembered the yard near the outer edge of the castle, where his wedding was to take place.

He arrived in the yard, where people of all sorts dressed fancifully and stood in rows, waiting (im)patiently. They turned to watch Hector as he ran towards the angel-white marble altar, which apparently someone had set up specifically for the ceremony. It was not a particularly large yard, which made the fact that there had to be a hundred guests somewhat distressing.

_Couldn't we just have done this standing on the grass?_

Waiting for him on the dais, along with his wife, was a bishop of the Lycian Church of Elimine, holding an ornamented staff and looking woefully bored. Hector wondered why it took a holy man to hook two people up, but he figured for once in his life it might be better if he kept his mouth shut.

A sudden wind started blowing through the yard, rustling the hedges bordering the court and making the blades of grass sway under the feet of the guests. Hector ran up and stood beside his beautiful wife in white, who gazed angrily at him for his tardiness. Hector shrugged sheeplessly (he still had no sheep) and the bishop began his monotone rites.

"We are here to bear witness to, in accordance with the arrangements of Elimine Almighty our Saint, the uniting of Lord Hector, Marquess Ostia, and Lady Lyndis of Caelin in divine marriage. We take this risk to be more sacred than any flipped coin or twice-sworn oath, a holy chance more thoroughly rewarded than a walk through the coals or the non-payment of a tithe. On this day we bear witness to the forging of a bond second only to the love of the Saint for her children, an agreement stronger than that of night, brighter than that of day. On this day we bear witness as two prices are paid for the good of one. On this day we bear witness as two souls become one, just as Saint Elimine's spirit became one with God. Thus we bear witness to a miracle. Lord Hector, Lady Lyndis, clasp hands."

Hector, bored almost to tears, turned towards his bride. He had refrained from looking at her as long as humanly possible, instead choosing to observe the crowd, finding the reactions of a few choice people amusing. Several times the drape around his neck flapped up against his face. At last he was forced to look at his bride, and as he expected, he was smote speechless. Again. The wind was intensifying, and Lyn's free green hair billowed majestically as they watched each other watch each other. They clasped hands.

"Vested as I am with the will of Saint Elimine, I hereby proclaim you husband and wife, by the laws and letters of this land and the blessings of Elimine herself. You are now souls as one," the bishop finished.

Hector embraced his wife and Lyn vigorously returned the favor, while the bishop shuffled off the altar with alarming godspeed.

The crowd all clapped politely, but Eliwood clapped loudest of all.

-

The ceremony had ended, and the guests had only begun to scatter and leave when the bride and her groom retreated back into the dark, twisting halls of Castle Ostia. Hector walked rapidly, Lyn having to half-dash to keep up with his long strides, her hot breaths following him relentlessly. Hector nearly knocked over some random servant boy and didn't even notice. Lyn mouthed 'sorry' to him as they swept themselves away.

"Slow down, Hector," Lyn said after nearly a minute of walking. They had turned a corner into one of the darkest side-halls of the castle, lit dimly by a small number of torches mounted in iron on the stone wall. Hector stopped near one of the torches, and when he saw there was no one coming, he kissed her until her back was to the wall. He took a single step back and she stood silent.

The way the fire of the torchlight fooled around in Lyn's green eyes almost made him lose it. The hall was dark and no one else was around; they could do it there, easily. It might even be fun. Nothing could go wrong. It was his castle, after all. _His_ castle. Hector thought about it, and for the first time, the thought of being the lone lord of the greatest castle in all Lycia overwhelmed him.

"Listen to me," Hector said. He intended to be quiet, but he failed. His heart hammered against his chest.

"What is it?"

"I need you, Lyn," he said, putting his palms against the wall on either side of her. Their faces were whispers apart. "I'm not half the man my brother was, but I'm going to have to be. It may not be perfect, but damn it all, Ostia is my home, and I've got to do everything I can to make it a better place. I won't give up. Ever."

Hector reached out and stroked Lyn's cheek. His gentleness always surprised Lyn, and this time it surprised even him.

"And—I don't want to be alone. My brother's gone, Eliwood's the marquess of Pherae...I—I just need you to be with me. _You_, Lyn. No one else."

At these last words, Lyn prickled with pride; Hector could see it in her eyes, in the way she held her shoulders up and her bronzed neck straight. Everyone wanted to be _needed_ by someone, and he was no exception. He felt awkward saying it, but he wanted her to know the truth. It was her pride he wanted, not his own. Lyn, he had discovered, had a way of making him do and say out of character things.

Seconds passed, moments passed; only Hector's heavy breathing broke the silence. Lyn laughed once and smiled, moved the hair away from her eyes.

"Hector. If you need my strength, I'll be there for you," Lyn said, draping her arms around Hector's large shoulders. She spoke into his lips. "I swear a thousand promises. I'll be with you."

"Lyn." He kissed her and held her against him as tightly as he could. She was warm in the torch's heat, and her face was moist with sweat.

"Well then," Lyn whispered in Hector's ear, tracing her fingers down his spine. "We're married now, hm? Isn't there something you want to show me?"

"Yeah," he said, nearly breathless. "I have a _big_ surprise for you." Hector put an arm around the back of Lyn's legs and hoisted her up with very little effort. She gasped, clung tightly to him, and thought about protesting, but instead closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulders. For the first and last time, Lyn allowed Hector to carry her: down the dim hall, towards _their_ bedchambers, into the night.


End file.
